The Secret Life of Hermione Granger
by ValiaGreenleaf
Summary: Hermione's true feelings for Harry are revealed and they're not like anything anyone could have expected.
1. The Truth

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, Merlin! We have to get Dumbledore!"

Hermione Granger stood there, shaking slightly, her worried words reverberating off the dorm room walls. Ron Weasley was sitting on his bed, practically translucent, alternating between staring at Hermione and staring at the bottom bunk of the four-poster bed across from him. All over the bed was blood, pills, and the green stains of an evaporated potion. In the very center of the mess was a boy, his arms covered with open, oozing wounds, his skin, a blue tinted alabaster, and his lips gray and parted letting saliva trail out of them and down his ice cold cheek.

"Ron, didn't you hear me! Oh, I'm going to get him myself," squeaked Hermione while running away, her robes swirling as she went to get help.

"Wait, no, Hermione! Don't!" yelled Ron suddenly while getting up.

"Why?" asked Hermione in confusion.

"He's already dead. There would be no point...," said Ron sadly, his eyes red and droopy.

"So...Harry's dead?" asked Hermione in dull shock.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, getting himself ready for Hermione's reaction.

"Oh, thank God. Finally," said Hermione with a relieved sigh.

Ron's jaw dropped in amazement.

"Oh, stop it, Ron, don't act like you've not been waiting for it too," said Hermione with slight annoyance while taking out a pack of cigarettes, Virginia Slims, and beating the back of the them, loosing one, and sticking it into her mouth, "Light my fag, would ya, mate?"

Hermione held out her lighter and Ron lit her cigarette for her in a daze.

"Thanks, love," said Hermione between drags, "So, how'd it happen? You do it?"

"No, no...he killed himself," said Ron in disbelief while taking a letter from off Harry's nightstand and handing it to Hermione, who snatched it from him.

"Oh, so the great Harry Potter snuffed himself," said Hermione boredly while reading the note aloud to herself, "Blah, blah, blah, 'I can't take the pressure,' blah, blah, 'I hate the world,' oh boohoo... 'Voldemort would have gotten me eventually,' well obviously with the way he was carrying on...blah, blah, blah."

Ron couldn't help but feel hurt as he listened to Hermione, one of his and Harry's best friends, go on without a hint of remorse or care in her feelings. Ron ran a shaky hand through his ginger hair and winced slightly as Hermione snorted at one of the line's in Harry's heartfelt adieu.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Oh, please Ron," said Hermione in exasperation, "Stop being such a prude about this. We all knew he'd do it. The annoying prat was just asking for it."

"I didn't say anything," said Ron.

"Ron, yes you did. You told me I shouldn't..."

Hermione stopped in mid sentence and stared openmouthed at a spot next to Harry's bed. Ron looked over to find Harry standing up next to the bed looking daggers at Hermione and very much alive.

"Harry..." started Hermione in shock.

"It was supposed to be a joke..." said Ron quietly.

He and Harry were standing next to each other looking betrayed and angered.

"Get out of here," said Harry through gritted teeth, green eyes flashing dangerously and wand in hand, sparking.

"Please, Harry, Ron, let me explain," whispered Hermione pleadingly.

"Just go, Hermione. We don't know you," said Ron fiercely, although his eyes were filling with tears.

"I'm...leaving," said Hermione in defeat.


	2. Hermione's Soliloquy

Hermione entered the darkened classroom. She ran a shaky hand through her thick brown hair and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, pacing, and took a drag.

"I can't believe you," spoke a voice from the corner behind her, "Good job, alienating your mates."

"Oh," said Hermione in surprise before finally relaxing for the first time since she came into the room, "So you've heard?"

"How could I not have? Word travels fast when walls have ears."

"I'm sure...Why does it have to be dark in here?"

"I like the dark."

"Yeah, you and every other piece of underworld scum."

"Please bare in mind the fact that I'm the only mate you have right now. So, if I were you, I'd keep your pathetic 'fighting words' to yourself."

"I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated. Oh, thanks."

The lights went on, illuminating the empty classroom. Hermione turned around to face her rendezvous.

"Fawkes wings!" exclaimed Hermione in surprise, dropping her cigarette on the dusty floor of the seldom used classroom.

Standing in front of her clothed in black robes was Severus Snape, her sinister, Slytherin loving Potions teacher.

"But, professor, you sounded like...I'm sorry. Please don't take points away from Gryffindor," squeaked Hermione.

Snape laughed out loud, "Don't worry, it's me."

Suddenly, Snape's skin began to bubble, his greasy black locks went white, and he doubled over, shrinking slightly in height. Once the transformation had ended, Snape was no longer standing in front of Hermione. In his place was the porcelain skinned Slytherin known as Draco Malfoy.

"I hate you," said Hermione in annoyance while seating herself on top of a desk and lighting up another cigarette, "I should've known. You didn't sound _remotely_ like Snape."

"Yeah, that's because I was about to change back. Polyjuice only lasts so long," said Draco while gracefully hopping onto the desktop next to her, "You know you shouldn't smoke. It's horrible for your health and rots your teeth. Oh, what _would_ your parents say if you came home with a mouth of yellowing teeth?"

" '_You shouldn't smoke...what would your parents say.'_," repeated Hermione mockingly before changing the subject, "So why Snape?"

"Why not? Me-ow. Ha. It's a long story. Tell me about your episode with Potter. What the hell were you thinking?" asked Draco with a smirk.

"I don't know," moaned Hermione, jumping off the desk and beginning to pace again, "I thought he was dead. Yes, I shouldn't have said anything until Ron was gone, but oh! I was just so relieved! Everyday the same thing: 'Oh, no one tells me anything!' 'Oh, Voldemort wants to kill me, but Snape wants to fail me!' 'Oh, my godfather was just killed at the beginning of summer and Prof. Binns expects me to write a four parchment long essay on the Witch Inquisition of 1610.' Sulk, sulk, sulk. Bother, bother, bother. Complain, complain, complain. I thought he'd finally been put out of his misery! It was a gift for him and for me. I just couldn't take him anymore. You know that, that's why I hang out with you. You may be an evil sinister, Slytherin prat, but at least you're not selfish and needy and whiny. Oh, there's only so much sympathy a person can get before they just become pathetic and useless.

"It's our 6th year. Everything is happening around us; the outside world is turning to ruin thank to our _friend_ Voldemort. Everything is happening within us; we all have something internal fucking up our emotions and lives, but then you look at him. He thinks nothing of anyone's problems. He thinks his are worse and he won't hear anything of anything else. 'Voldemort isn't trying to kill you.' Our pain is just a pin prick compared to the anguished agony of the great Harry James Potter, the boy who lived. Just a fucking pin prick...So, I was happy. No not happy, I was ecstatic! And I figured he was happy finally too with his godfather and his parents... Who fakes their own death anyways? Ugh, and now no one in our, well my, house will talk to me and Slytherins keep cheering and clapping me on the back. I hate this. They won't even look at me. You'd think we'd have a stronger bond."

Hermione stopped pacing and pulled out another cigarette, but her hand was shaking too much for her to light it. She cursed under her breath at herself as a tear made it's way slowly down the side of her rosy cheek. Draco reached out his long slender arms and pulled Hermione toward him in a warm hug. Hermione melted against him and burst into tears feeling vulnerable and lost, but completely safe in the arms of Draco Malfoy.


End file.
